The Battle for Whiterun
by Amy Beswick
Summary: A young Imperial woman finds herself in Skyrim: an Imperial soldier, and a dragonborn. A short story I wrote about the battle for Whiterun! It's still in progress, and feedback or advice would be greatly appreciated :)
1. Chapter 1

Laila burst out of the doors of Dragonsreach and swiftly descended the stairs. For a relatively small Imperial woman, she was strong, and she was fast: a consequence of being brought up by her uncle, who happened to run Leyawiin's fighters guild, in Cyrodill. After his death, there was nothing left for her there, so she decided to travel to Skyrim, to join the war against the Stormcloaks. Things hadn't gone entirely to plan, but she was here now, a fresh young soldier of 22. She'd built herself up from nothing to a respectable soldier, although she was fighting two wars: one as a Legionnaire, fighting to keep Skyrim from the control of a bigoted dictator, and one as the Dragonborn, fighting the war against the dragons. Not that she felt in anyway powerful or important. There were much better fighters out there, and she almost always had help slaying dragons. She was just a rookie soldier in the Imperials ranks too: although a competent fighter, Laila hadn't had much chance to prove herself. She felt almost used as a symbol more than a soldier, and was determined to show what she could do.

As she reached the wind district, chaos surrounded her: villagers frantically dashing about as their world fell down around them, panic and desperation in their wide-eyed faces. Here and there, spitting flames licked up the side of half-collapsed buildings, their harsh brightness illuminating the ravaged city as smoke billowed into the blood-orange dusk. Nobody was stirring in Jorrvaskar, she noted angrily. Stormcloack-loving bastards. Despite all their big talk of honour and battle, they wouldn't lift a finger to save their own city. When Laila had first come to Whiterun, she joined them. Their mercenary companionship reminded her of the fighter's guild at home, and her aptitude as a fighter had bought her a bed to sleep in. However, she soon discovered they had little honour to speak of and were corrupt to the core. Eventually, she made enough coin to buy herself a small house, which was likely to be obliterated, looking at the state of the rest of city.

She pulled open the heavy gate and just made it over the drawbridge before some guards, who had been following her out of the city, pulled it up. She raced down the wooden pathways with some difficulty, as most of them had been blasted apart by the flaming catapult rocks which continued to rain down upon Whiterun. The usually peaceful green plains were crawling with advancing soldiers; the orange glow from their fiery catapults and torches making cheery farmland look like the pits of Oblivion. She reached for her bow, a natural reaction, although it would be futile to shoot: they were much too far away, which she felt was slightly reassuring. A mixture of Imperial soldiers and Whiterun guards stood, weapons ready, on the outskirts of the city. Laila rushed to join them, glad she wasn't too late. Here and there, guards were constructing wooden barricades, which presumably would block the paths up to the city gate. Legate Rikke was making a speech about the "glory of the empire" and "everlasting victory." Only half listening, she checked her supplies: she only had 2 healing potions and 20 arrows to last this fight. After travelling from Winterhold to Whiterun to find full scale battle greeting her, she wasn't exactly prepared for combat. Panicking slightly, she put the arrows back into her quiver.

"Want some more arrows?" she heard a familiar voice call from behind her. She whipped around expectantly, and saw a fellow Imperial soldier smiling at her, a full quiver of arrows in his outstretched hand.

"Hadvar!" she exclaimed, in shock. She took the arrows off him and stowed them in her quiver. "Fancy seeing you here" she grinned. Laila and Hadvar had escaped Helgen together when a dragon attacked, although at the time Laila was prisoner there, having crossed the border into Skyrim illegally. However, with her resourcefulness and a bit of help off Hadvar, she had acquired armour, a sword, and some coin, and fought her way out. She hadn't seen him since.

"Well, as you know, I've been a legionnaire much longer than you" he replied, a playful smirk on his face. "Shouldn't I be shocked at your sudden appearance?"

"You were the one who recommended that I join up" she said, a smile playing in the corner of her lips. "Although I was already on my way when your lot tried to off me."

Hadvar laughed. "Apologies. Although, I did save your life..."

"Well, you helped to" she quipped cheerfully in response.

"Been busy since we last spoke though, I hear" said Hadvar. "Off being the great dragonborn of legend and all that. So, was it your ma or your pa that was the dragon?" he questioned.

"Very funny" she responded drily, her heart feeling lighter for such a cheerful conversation. For a shining moment, the ongoing attack seemed miles away, until one of the flaming catapult rocks crashed close to where they stood. An Imperial mage, wearing robes with his standard boots, gauntlets and helmet, rushed to put it out: he used some form of ice spell to control the flames, which quickly subsided. Gods, the attackers were getting very close now. Laila quickly checked her own standard leather armour to make sure it was tightly secured. It may not be considered the best thing to wear be wearing when a heavy-handed Nord swings an axe at you, but it was light: as a quick-footed Imperial, she could easily dodge and prevent that from happening. She slung her shield off her shoulder and fixed it onto her left arm, and pulled her elven sword out of its sheath.

"Nice sword" Hadvar commented. "Hardly standard issue. Who'd you nab that off then?"

Laila punched him on the arm playfully. "Oi! It was a gift, I'll have you know" she retorted. "Anyway, you might want to draw your beautifully standard sword out. It's time." She was ready, determination written on her face and adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"Come on!" Legate Rikke bellowed, her voice carrying over the sound of the turmoil. "Let's go and meet them!"


	2. Chapter 2

The battle had truly begun 20 minutes later. Already, casualties lay in the dirt, dead or barely conscious. Laila was locked in combat with a burly Stormcloak, presumably a Nord, who was twice her size. His brute strength was a match for her agility and skill, and neither could seem to defeat the other. He'd bring his great battle-axe crashing down, and Laila would duck and bring her shield up to meet it. Likewise, his heavy steel armour easily blocked her hits, the only weak point being in the neck, where Laila had failed to raise her sword to as he would simply knock her back with his axe.

Frustrated, Laila considered using a shout against him, but didn't want to reveal herself. She was sure that if she shouted, she'd attract far too much attention, and she didn't want anyone else on her back right now. Anyway, it would be exactly what Legate Rikke would want, rubbing it into the Stormcloaks faces that the dragonborn was on the Imperials side. Although Laila was loyal to the empire, she didn't want to be anything more than just a soldier. She was sick of people trying to manipulate her: the Greybeards wanted her to live by the way of the voice; the Blades wanted her to devote her life to killing dragons; the Imperials wanted her as symbol of their army's superiority. She just wanted to live her own life. Why couldn't they see that?

Temporarily lost in this train of thought, Laila took a hit, the blunt side of the Stormcloak's axe striking her in the shoulder. She fell backwards, hitting hard on the cold earth. She held her shield over her body, which left her little option for attacking, but she needed a second to recover. Luckily, the mage she'd seen putting out the fires earlier rushed to her aid, sending some form of shock spell hurtling towards the Stormcloak, temporarily paralysing him so Laila could scramble up and take a swing for his neck. Her sword sliced through his flesh like a knife through soft butter, sending his head rolling onto the floor with a satisfying _thump_.

"Thanks" she grinned at the mage, who was rolling his eyes mockingly.

"Oh please, don't mention it" he smirked playfully, every syllable of his voice dripping in sarcasm. "It's not like I just saved you from being cleaved into pieces."

His eyes sparkled from behind the leather of his helmet, challenging Laila to contradict him. Instead, she reached for her dagger and threw it, hitting a Stormcloak behind him square in the forehead.

"No need to thank me either" she quipped loftily, before retrieving her dagger and returning to the thick of the fighting.

Laila and the mage, whose name she didn't know, fought together for a while. He would fire shock spells, paralysing Stormcloaks and draining their health, and Laila would finish them off before they could recover, easily slashing through their weakened bodies. It was a good partnership: for the time they were fighting together, neither of them suffered any injuries.

Although the Imperials had been fighting better, they were still greatly outnumbered. The Stormcloaks had the upper hand from the start; they had the element of surprise on their side, and, seeing as they'd been planning this offensive, they had hundreds of fully equipped soldiers who were completely prepared for battle. On the other side, the Imperial forces were made up of whoever had been able to get there in time. Reinforcements were on the way, but there was no telling when they'd arrive.

The Stormcloaks were close to the drawbridge by the time night truly fell. The battle was still raging on, although both sides had suffered serious losses. Bodies littered the floor around the fighters, surrounded by pools of glistening blood. Although the Imperials were fighting tirelessly, there seemed to be more and more Stormcloaks appearing. At least the fire catapulting had stopped now: they must have run out of men or realised they could be harming their own troops. Laila seriously hoped it was the former. She ran past the clusters of fighters and casualties, trying to reach the barricades which were the last line of defence. There were three Stormcloaks there, being practically ignored by the preoccupied fighters as they went to smash down the barricades. She couldn't face all three soldiers alone, and the mage she had been fighting with previously had lagged behind her, healing some Imperial soldiers.

Grudgingly, Laila used her unrelenting force shout, sending the Stormcloaks flying backwards. This had the undesired effect she was afraid of: Stormcloaks swarmed over to kill her like she was a flame and they were encircling moths. It was as if someone had painted a glowing target on her back, though she didn't see why they were so desperate to kill her anyway. She was the only one who could save their precious homeland from the dragon attacks, yet they were hunting her down just because she may use her power against them as part of their trivial civil war? As she was tired, injured and running out of strength, she found this highly irritating.

However, it also achieved the effect she was going for: after attracting so much attention to it, the barricades hadn't been broken down and were now being heavily guarded. Much to her distaste, the Stormcloaks were more interested in her, anyway. After ducking to avoid a fatal blow from a warhammer, she swung upwards with her sword and cut the perpetrator's arm off, who fell down to the floor screaming in pain. She deflected an arrow with her shield, spun round, and clobbered a Stormcloak over the head with it, before stabbing him in the weak point in his armour.

To survive this, she was going to have to use her bow. Despite the decreased visibility she would have in the smoke and the darkness, she was a fine marksman, and Stormcloaks were hardy the stealthiest of enemies. The mage unknowingly assisted her yet again in this plan: casting shock spells on enemies coming towards her from where he was hidden behind some rubble. This gave her time to get to a higher point, on a surviving wooden platform, sheathing her sword and pulling out her bow as she went. From here, it was much easier to pick off the attackers: her arrows quickly nestled themselves into the throats, arms and legs of the partially paralysed soldiers. She was grateful for the extra arrows Hadvar had given her now as she quickly depleted her original stash of 20.

Laila could see a fast-approaching force of Imperial soldiers riding on horseback in the distance. She smiled grimly. At least this would all be over soon.


End file.
